One Day You Will
by purplepagoda
Summary: She thought no one would ever notice if she left town, and never came back. But when you leave like she did the void in their lives is palpable. She has moved on, and lives a different life, as someone else. Her past seems to be catching up with her as she tries to find happily ever after. If she came back, and told the truth would he ever forgive her?
1. Chapter 1

She stares at the picture on the mantle. She inhales, breathing in the scent of the farm house. Winter has set in, and the house is filled with the scent of burning wood from the fireplace. Another breath reveals the smell of wet boots, and the cup of warm hot coco between her hands. She stands in silence in front of the mantle. It is late, and the room is dimly lit. The only light is from the fireplace, and a couple of candles on the mountain. She takes the picture frame off the mantle, and carries it with her to the couch. She settles into her seat, and places her mug on the surface of the coffee table. She flips on a lamp, and closely studies the picture.

The people staring back at her look endlessly happy. A boy, a girl, and their father. She recognizes the look of sadness in the mother's eyes. In fact it is the look in her own eyes. This was the path that she had chosen. She wanted this, and things had been more incredible that she had ever imagined, despite an underlying sense of guilt. She has lived in this very house for ten years. She moved to this small, rural area hoping for a new beginning.

She traded it all for a single dream. She hoped and prayed for simplicity, and a chance to lead a different existence. She gave up everything to come here. She uprooted everything for this opportunity. She changed her career, becoming a teacher. She changed her look, and her name. She changed everything, and things fell into place. Her life soon became filled with warmth, love, and stability. She met an incredible man, and married him. He was a good provider, and it wasn't long before their family of two increased.

They live a simple existence. They choose to live well within their means so that their children can be afforded opportunities further down the road. She studies their family picture. It is from the previous Christmas. A daughter, with bright eyes, and a beautiful smile, and a son with curls, and an ornery grin. Her eyes shift from the picture. Eventually her eyes fall on her abdomen. Her hand comes to rest on her abdomen, and her barely perceptible bump. They were supposed to live happily ever after, but her life changed in the blink of an eye. It isn't the first time, but she has more at stake now.

She hears a floorboard creak, and her natural instinct is to reach for the weapon under the floorboard. She pauses, recognizing the footsteps coming towards her. She looks up, and finds a little girl with braided hair, wearing a nightgown coming toward her. The little girl takes a seat on the couch. She lies down positioning her head in her mother's lap.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Where is daddy?"

She pets her head, "I don't know."

"When is he coming home?"

"I don't know," she admits.

"Mommy what is going on?"

"Things far beyond our control," she explains.

"It's late, why are you still awake?"

"I was just thinking," she admits.

"I am sure he'll be home soon," the little girl reassures her.

"Yeah," she nods, in agreement.

"Don't worry about me, okay? I'll be okay."

"You should go back to bed."

"Can I sleep with you?"

"I'm not asleep," she points out.

"Then, I guess it is time for bed."

She follows the little girl up the stairs to the master bedroom. They situate themselves underneath a quilt. She lies there staring at her daughter.

"Mommy, quit worrying about me, and go to sleep."

"Okay," she kisses her forehead, "Goodnight, angel."

She tosses and turns all night. She wakes before dawn, and both kids are still asleep. She heads downstairs to the kitchen after checking on her son. She finds her husband sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

"Kevin, where were you?"

"It doesn't matter what I say. You're paranoia will make up an answer to satisfy your delusions."

"You have been late every night this week."

"I was at work."

"At one o'clock in the morning? You were at the office until one in the morning? What kind of veterinary emergency was it this time? Oh, wait, you don't do emergencies. There is an emergency, after hour clinic forty minutes north of us. Never try to comfort me with a lie. Just tell me the truth."

"I just couldn't come home. I sat there in my office, and I couldn't bring myself to come home."

"Then maybe you shouldn't be here."

"I am just having a hard time with this. I just can't do it. Every time I think about coming home and reading her a story, and tucking her in, it breaks my heart, because I keep thinking that it might be the last time, and I just can't live with that."

"I need you here. We all need you here. I can't do this on my own. I need you here."

"I know, I just need a minute."

"A minute? If you want me to do this on my own, I will."

"That isn't what I am saying. I don't expect that."

"You missed the doctor's appointment yesterday."

"I didn't know that she had an appointment yesterday," he admits.

"My doctor's appointment," she clarifies.

"Right," he nods, "I'm so sorry. Was everything okay? I know that you had to reschedule a couple of times, I guess I just forgot that it was yesterday."

"It's okay, they look fine."

"They?"

She nods, "Twins."

He shakes his head in disbelief, "How are we going to do this? We already have so much on our plate with Ava being sick."

"I don't want to talk about that right now."

"We have to talk about it eventually. Neither of us are a match."

"I know."

"So what are we going to do? They said it could take months for them to find a match. She is only going to get sicker."

"There is no other option."


	2. Chapter 2

He enters his apartment, and finds a light on in the kitchen. He tosses his mail on the table, and draws his weapon. He knows he hasn't left his light on, and senior is out of town for the week for some misguided business opportunity. He instantly gets the sensation that he is not alone. He stops at the end of the couch, seeing a figure sitting on his couch. He creeps forward, slowly. Before he can react he feels a hand wrap around his wrist. The party sitting on his couch disarms him.

"Turn on the light," she insists, barely audible. He takes a few steps backwards, and flips on the light. He quickly reaches down, and pulls his backup from his ankle. As his eyes adjust to the light the situation becomes clearer, and yet more confusing at the same time. He stares at the woman sitting on his couch with strawberry blonde hair. His mind races, and he can't seem to sort out the details. No matter how hard he tries he can't make sense of the scenario in front of him.

"Lower your weapon," she instructs. He complies placing it on the coffee table in front of her. She does the same. She points at the empty seat next to her, "Sit."

He slowly moves toward the other end of the couch. He lowers himself into the seat, never taking his eyes off of her. As he waits for her to break the silence he tries to discern what to feel. He feels conflicted, wondering if he should feel relieved or betrayed.

"I need your help."

He shakes his head, "This isn't real. This can't be real. You're dead. I…"

She cuts him off, "I can't give you details."

"You shouldn't be here. You can't be here."

"Tony, I'm sorry."

"Ten years," he reminds her.

"The length of time will only add insult to what I need to tell you."

"This isn't possible," he argues.

"I need you to focus."

He nods in agreement, "You can't tell anyone about me being here."

"I don't want them to think that I'm crazy," he admits.

"I need your help."

"Are you in trouble?"

"It's not me. It's my daughter."

He swallows hard, "Oh." He realizes that she has moved on.

"I am married, and I have a son, and a daughter," she adds.

"Good for you," he struggles to find the right words to respond.

"My daughter is sick."

"What is wrong with her?"

"She has leukemia, and my husband and I aren't a match, neither is my son. He is five, so I wouldn't dream of using his bone marrow even if he was a match."

"Why do you think that I can help?"

"I happen to know that you're the same blood type. I don't expect an answer today. I know that it is a lot of information to take in, and I can't tell you much more than that right now," she pulls a paper out of her pocket, "That is my phone number. If you decide that you would be willing to be tested call, and let me know," she rises, vacating her seat. He watches her as she walks away. He has a hard time sorting his thoughts as the door closes. His eyes shift to the piece of paper he's holding. It lists a phone number, and then underneath it says, _Ava, 2014._ He turns the paper over, and realizes that it is a wallet sized photo. He stares at the picture of a little girl with a smile that he recognizes.


End file.
